#bikeshapedheart

the wheels of my heart
get flat tires
almost every single morning

sometimes i try to breathe life
into them
instead of air
to help them carry me
through
another day of mourning

other times there’s nothing to be done

and while they lay deflated
like plastic-filled whales
on plastic-filled shores
you come out of nowhere
and fill them up with
an almost indistinguishable feeling
of blue remorse

that’s usually more than enough
to fill them up
but sometimes, just sometimes
the tires of my heart’s wheels
are so full of your scent
that it’s simply too much to handle
too much to take in
and all they can do
is blow themselves up

the scratched frame
the rusty chain
the crumbs and leftovers
of rummaged pain
the oiled brakes
the dusty pedals
the protective metals
they all collectively applaud
the explosion
and out of nowhere a relative truth
is spoken:

“You can’t be ridden, heart!
Your only purpose is to be broken!”